


Yawn Instead...

by StarLove18



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Caught, Choking, Developing Relationship, Diary/Journal, Don't copy to another site, Don't repost, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Gratuitous Smut, Het, Multiple Orgasms, Revenge, Sex Toys, Shameless Smut, Wakanda (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2019-10-16 00:58:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17539643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarLove18/pseuds/StarLove18
Summary: You fake it to make it? He shall surely break it...





	1. Chapter 1

He read that, having snuck into your diary in your absence.  
  
“You sure about that?” He said with a snerk, although you aren’t there. His presumptuous mind swirled with ideas, on how to knock your ankles loose.  
  
How to keep you wet.  
  
How to make you cum.  
  
How to make you scream.  
  
Moan.  
  
Beg.  
  
Burst into flames as your toes curl.  
  
Rearranging your guts.  
  
As he glided over to his laptop, his kimoyo beads activated, and his doppelganger appeared in the YouTube search results.  
  
“Search for that Vanity Fair video, the one that focuses on secret talents.”  
  
Right away, his doppelganger’s VF video commenced, all decked up in a suit and just the right amount of class.  
  
Minus the locs.  
  
As the video ended, Erik proceeded to set up some arrangements. He’d left his chambers, cracked his knuckles and made headway to the office. Although it was evident that T'Challa had just left, he approached his cousin’s desk, unlocked the drawer, and pulled out a stack of king-sized condoms and two sparkling wine bottles.  
  
Red wine, that is.  
  
Erik had plans to devour you.  
  
Slowly… Deliberately…  
  
Just this once, he gave his doppelganger props for the inspiration, although he still wanted to slap some sense into him.  
  
But all good things were best reserved for later.

~•~•~

“Hey Naija, Im'a meet you at the shop, okay?”

“Gurl, this Wakanda is HYPE!”

“See what I mean? It's truly advanced out here.”

“So what are you gonna do about the photo challenge that Queen-to-be Nakia had announced last month?”

You stared at the blue sky from where you stood, orange crush sorbet in hand. The photo challenge, designed to uplift Black girls and women across the world, was something you haven't given much thought to. Deep down, you'd never felt extra comfortable with selfies.

“I need to think about it. See you soon!”

“Later ma!”

Ever since you moved out here for a two-year internship in Recreation Therapy for the young and old, it wasn't long before you’ve crossed paths with the Royal Udaku Family.

Shuri's impressive inventions, Nakia's war dog spy training, and The Dora Milaje had gotten you into the #BlackGirlMagic hashtag.

When you've crossed paths with Erik, it's placed a smile on his face. A smile you couldn't resist. It's made your insides melt every time he did it.

Until you've witnessed his hot-headed personality.

 

~•~•~

 

You've just made it back to your apartment in the country's capital after a long day of work. One of your roommates who trained under Erik had gotten demoted, yet Erik had no patience for incompetence. To make a long story short, they've argued back and forth on their kimoyo beads. By this time, you were both dating - four months strong. You grabbed your finest lingerie, your purple robe, and hired a taxi cab to the palace. You knew exactly where Erik's quarters were.

How fortunate when no one had inquired about your long black jacket and fuzzy slippers.

All the more wins for that back massage you gave him.

The way he untied your robe and watched it slip off your shoulders…

Those damned, luscious lips in the crook of your neck…

The way he bit your collarbone…

The way he teased your breasts…

Especially the part where his fingers, index and middle, stroked your clutch like a genius...

You came for him right there and then, but he wasn't finished. After giving you an hour to recover, the next round consisted of a rough pounding, sweat and pants…

Yet, you've faked it.

Faked orgasms until he found your G-spot.

Since then, you've made sex with Erik a priority if he's ever had a rough day.

 

~•~•~

 

As you sat near the bus stop,  you've reached for purse and searched for your black diary.

It wasn't there.

“What the? What did I do with it? I could’ve  sworn I took it with me. Everywhere I go, I have it.”

Just then, a text message came through.

_Hey babe, I'm coming over tonight. Cooking is on me, okay? - E_

At least-

Wayment…

Two nights ago, the two of you had gotten freaky in the gym. He'd banged you from behind, knowing just how much you loved it.

Well, _pretended_ is the fitting term.

That’s also the last time you've used your diary, as he showered.

You've sent an urgent text to Shuri:

_Hey, if you see my diary - the Black one - keep it away from your cousin, okay? I've just realized I've forgotten about it._

Little did you realize Erik had watched you from the sidelines, and screened your messages since he’d stolen Shuri's smartphone.

Good. His plans were slowly coming to fruition. That cute, deceptive smirk crossed his features again.

~Iza kuqhubeka~


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm... There's something about your Black Book. Erik Stevens investigates the matter further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad so many of you are enjoying this! Then it came to my attention that AO3 is lacking another chapter... So here it is!
> 
> Angst buildup ahead (and other surprises).

“Hey babe! We're off to Zana Mall. You still comin’ through or nah?”

You chuckled. “Of course I'm still in.”

As you departed from the bus, your friend Naija ran and jumped into your arms. Smothered in your mutual glees, spinning like a carousel, it's been too long. That's why her text had surprised you earlier. Excited as she was to see you (since your internship began), another face had caught your eye.

Rocking a haircut with a mohawk-like wave in the middle, all in kinky twists. He wore a black tank top, deep blue jeans and held his matching blue jacket behind him. His deep chocolate complexion accentuated in the late afternoon sun; evidence of his muscles filled his arms and shoulders with grace.

Then you remembered - Naija knew how to hook up rather quickly. Being a social butterfly contributed to this occurrence.

“Sorry, excuse my manners,” you said. After your brief introduction, he did the same.

“Trey,” he replied with a firm, friendly handshake. “It's nice meeting you. I grew up in America, but my parents are natives to Wakanda. So I've decided to pay them a long, overdue visit. They moved back since King T'Challa returned to the throne.”

“That's awesome!”

~•~•~

Erik had trotted thirty steps behind you. He’d never missed a beat. You're easy to read like a book.

At this time, you, Naija and Trevante ran around with bags of clothes. As you all made way to the bookstore, Erik pulled up his phone and sent the following text message:

_ What do men and chairs share in common? _

_ Good seating. _

_ Get that pussy ready for tonight's grand opening. - E _

Erik smiled. Someone will be taught some real manners soon. He sent another text message to T'Challa, asking where to buy some handcuffs, gags, duct tape, whips and poppers. Glory to Bast! An instant reply with the name of the store and a map of Zana Mall activated in his kimoyo beads.

“I owe you one, Cuz,” Erik muttered as he made his way to the sex shop upstairs.

There were two adult toy stores nearby. One named “Big O” - another known as “Mastourgasmist”. The sight of handcuffs and leather stood out at the second location. Erik sauntered over, selected two leather belts, gags, and…

A Pandora Box?

“Excuse me, Miss. Care to explain what the ingredients are?”

A hazel-eyed lady with multi coloured canerows approached Erik, and took note of the product he pointed out.

“It's best suited for couples who enjoy power play,” she said. “This Pandora Box contains flavoured condoms, nipple clamps, aromas of your choosing, gags, chains, and a chastity belt.”

Erik's eyes lit up. That's exactly what you deserved. “So what's the difference between the black one, the blue one and the red one?”

The clerk cocked an eyebrow. “The darker the box, the higher the intensity. Take for instance…” She retrieved the black box. “This has all the perks I've told you about, and then some. Because our tools also promote mutual masturbation and favours masochism, four kinds of vibrators, two types of lube which also features coconut oil, and cock rings are also included in this package. Oh and poppers, if your lover has a hard time achieving orgasms. The black box also contains ingredients for creating the best aphrodisiac, like watermelons and strawberries. Better than Viagra pills in my opinion. Oh, and buying this package comes with free candles, smelling salts, blindfolds and-”

“I'll take it! Keep the change!”

The store clerk smiled as she brought the black Pandora Box to the counter. As she processed the transaction, Erik reached in his wallet when another hand placed the required tender on the counter, in addition to Shea and cocoa butter.

“Put those on the house,” T'Challa spoke.

Erik spun as the king chuckled. “The hell is you doing here?”

“Just thought I'd lend a hand.”

Erik rolled his eyes. “I didn't need your help.”

Now T'Challa's pesky smirk crossed his features. Erik gathered his stuff, and sauntered out of the store while his cousin trailed behind him.

“Where are your manners? You didn't thank the lady for assisting you.”

“Shut up,” came the curt response.

“But I thought she gave you a hard time the last few times,” T'Challa pressed, as they made it onto the parking lot.

“Who you talkin’? The clerk or-”

T'Challa pointed in the direction of you and Naija. The two of you had acted giddy around each other, which contrasted the unhappy couple who struggled to start their car a few metres away.

“Where are your manners?” Erik countered. “You do realize it's inappropriate to point at others. Some  _ king _ you are.”

T'Challa snorted in an attempt to avoid attention. Catching his breath (while averting Erik's pesky smirk), he gestured you and your friend again. “Just watch them. No attempts to help those civilians. I thought that's part of her responsibility on this internship.”

“And your point is?”

“She's selfish, N'Jadaka. You're dating a selfish lady. That's why I've sent you straight to that store when you asked.”

Erik cocked an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “Okay, now spill. What's the catch, Cuz? You seem to know something that I don't.”

T'Challa cleared his throat. “Remember how I've demoted three soldiers?”

“What about them?”

T'Challa slipped his hand in his jacket and retrieved a black book. “You've got some reading to do, unless you want to hear firsthand how they've tried to give her some.”

Erik's eyes glittered. “Hol’ up… That's her diary! Without the lock.”

“Without the lock,” T'Challa echoed. “I've found it in my desk. Unlike the one you have with actual entries, the version I've discovered has a list of names. It's a track record of how fast men release, without giving her orgasm-”

“Say no more! Hop in my car so we can compare notes.”

“Deal.”

~°~°~   
  
Upon your arrival home, the scent of stir-fry greeted your nostrils. How did Erik get in the apartment without a key?   
  
Why were strawberries and watermelon slices on the table?   
  
What’s that box with - handcuffs on top of it?   
  
“Erik?” you hollered. “I’m home, but I’ve never given you a key!”   
  
“A key baby?” Erik said. “It would’ve helped if you told me exactly how you feel.”   
  
“What do you mean?”   
  
Clad in his sweats and black sweater, open and exposing his muscular pecs and torso, he emerged from the bathroom with a whip in one hand, and your black books in the other.   
  
“Tell me, who is the last person you’ve fucked?”   
  
You giggled. “Obviously, y-”   
  
“Nah, I won’t tolerate any lies.”   
  
At this point, you’ve backed up against the wall. His steps towards you were timed with swagger; he never took his eyes from you.   
  
“Who did you fuck last time?”   
  
Your pounding heart had reached your throat. “I- I-”   
  
“Look into my eyes, precious.”   
  
You did as he said, only to be caught off guard when the books landed next to your feet. His free hand trailed under your shirt.   
  
“What are their names, babe?”   
  
You didn’t answer. His fingers wrapped around your throat.   
  
“Tell me, babe.”   
  
“No,” you whispered.   
  
His hand added some pressure. “Tell me.”

_ ~iza kuqhubeka~ _


End file.
